


Just A Noise

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fighting, Fingering, Kidnapping (towards the end), Multi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Stalking, Yandere Connor, heavy rain serving a purpose, straight-up sadist connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Taking a few steps from the window into the dark, you resolve to find your phone- it’s somewhere in the kitchen, you think. It’ll provide enough entertainment to hold you over until they fix the power in the little neighborhood you live in.Something grabs your wrist.-Chapter 1: AFAB readerChapter 2: AMAB reader





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, fellow android-fuckers.  
> I wrote this fic because a thought I had- if androids are like people, wouldn't some of them just... become aggressive for no clear-cut reason? In-game, it's always a response to something like trauma or a self-defense thing, but in the real world that's not always the case. People attack for no reason sometimes! So I made this- Connor being a violent yandere for no real known reason. Let's have FUN, guys.  
> As always, forgive any errors/mistakes... I tried.

“Connor, you know that despite everything, I’m still your friend… right?”

Your voice is soft and low, your hand gentle on his bicep. It is a truthful statement; even after everything that had happened with him over the past few months, you still really do care for him. But you can’t deny that there is something wrong, and that he needs to suffer the consequences for his…  _ behavior _ .

A short while after the revolution, something inside him seemed to have changed. He became  _ sadistic _ , in a sense, pulling out his gun at times when it  _ really  _ was not necessary, shouting at people until they broke down even when they clearly would have cooperated otherwise, and for lack of a better word, starting to act like kind of a dick towards fellow coworkers. At first, it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad; it was no worse than some of the more aggressive officers. Eventually, though, it hit a point where it just became alarming- even Hank seemed perturbed, casting vaguely anxious glances around when he said something a bit too line-crossing.

Of special note was his attitude towards you. He seems to stand too close and look at you with an odd, almost predatory glint in his eye, looking you up and down as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. Whenever you speak to someone else, he’d have a seemingly angry air about him, as if he wanted to tear you away and have you focus on him and _ only  _ him. And then there were times you swear to God he was following you.

So here he is: the department is letting him go. It is a sad moment, but you can’t help but acknowledge that it is necessary. Android-human relations are on shaky grounds as it is, and nobody wants any kind of fuck-up on his behalf to shatter the feeble bond. He is a risk, plain and simple- thus, he has to leave.

“Yes, I know. Thank you,” he says, looking at the floor with an unreadable expression. You gnaw on your lip for a second, cast a glance around, and squeeze his arm before letting go.

“Good. I’ll see you around, okay?”

He nods faintly, and you relax a bit before excusing yourself. As you walk away, you know he is staring at you, but you ignore it, taking a deep breath. A pang of sadness rings in your chest, but also a pang of relief.

Outside, it starts to pour.

* * *

You linger in the station for a while, milling about with everyone else and doing paperwork for a few hours before you decide it’s time to go home. The entire drive home, the rain slams into your windshield, and it makes you a tiny bit anxious. You push the feeling down, far where you can’t bother to think about it anymore as you sprint into your house, trying to stay as dry as possible. It it’s not until a half hour passes and you’re comfortably sitting on your couch, watching a random TV show when the power goes out.

A sigh leaves your lips as you glance out the window, trying to assess the current situation. The streetlights outside leak pale light through some of your windows, and the rain is falling fast enough to drown you. Slumping down on the floor, you sit under the light as your only source of comfort- for some reason, the dark scares you right now. Another few minutes pass, until you hear a strange sound that makes you go stiff.

Leaning slightly closer to the source of the noise, you wait with bated breath, muscles tense. It sounded like feet shuffling on your floor, and you begin to panic that somebody may just be in your house. You lean towards the sound until your side begins to ache, and wait even more- but nothing else happens. A weak laugh leaves your lips after a moment- it’s just a  _ noise _ , you reassure yourself over and over again. Just a  _ noise. _

Slowly, you stand up, legs a little weak from the sitting-leaning you did. Taking a few steps from the window into the dark, you resolve to find your phone- it’s somewhere in the kitchen, you think. It’ll provide enough entertainment to hold you over until they fix the power in the little neighborhood you live in.

Something grabs your wrist.

It’s grip is incredibly strong- so strong you fear your wrist might actually snap. Squealing in surprise, you begin to swing with your spare arm blindly, feeling satisfaction when you feel your fist crash into what you assume to be a face. It’s a short-lived victory- you feel a fist connect with your gut, making you double over before you get a blow to the face. Gasping, you try to desperately stand up and keep fighting, pushing down the panic you feel as you taste metal in your mouth, adrenaline too intense to feel any real pain. 

A violent shove sends you to the ground, wheezing, and a brief moment passes before a harsh kick to the ribs completely winds you. A hand grabs your hair and drags you to the floor near the window, the pale light still shining through. Your skull is slammed into the floor once more, making your vision fuzzy as you frantically thrash on the ground, desperate to win this fight no matter how one-sided it is. It isn’t until your vision clears that you see your attacker.

“Connor?” you rasp weakly, reaching up to push him off. “Connor, stop-”

He grabs your neck, not enough to choke you- just enough to hold you down. He slams his lips forcefully into yours and shoves his tongue into your mouth, making you let out a noise of protest into the kiss. He pulls away and looks at you intently, and you try to speak again, using a more authoritative tone as you reach up again, awkwardly trying to strike him.

_ “Connor, I swear to God if you don’t-” _

A rough backhand stuns you into silence as you try to recoil, being held steady by his hand wrapping around your throat. “Stop it.” His voice is a low, intimidating drone. “You’re wasting our time.” More blood fills your mouth and you swallow it down before you can think of doing anything else.

He reaches down to pull down your pants roughly, your squirming doing nothing to stop the process. A mild, physical exhaustion seeps into you, but you refuse to stop despite your body and a part of your mind protesting. It’s irrelevant- he pulls them down, alongside your underwear with ease- and he manages to yank your shirt up as well. He lets go of your throat to hoist your legs up, and before you can even fully sit up he slams you back down and shifts downward, mouth over your warmth. You babble protests, but they quickly disappear into gasps as his tongue drags over your slit.

His hands grip your thighs tight enough to bruise you, tongue exploring you deftly. You can’t help but let out gasps and moans despite your dread and you bite into your hand so intensely your skin breaks and blood floods your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself. It doesn’t really work.

His tongue plunges in deep before pulling out and teasing your folds, sending jolts throughout you. It becomes obvious that he’s ignoring your clit on purpose, and it frustrates you as you ache for more. It’s after some more teasing that his lips finally meet yours and his tongue touches your clit, making you arch your back roughly as you try to lick the blood off your hand to suppress your moans. Quickly, you orgasm, cunt clenching in pleasure before he pulls away, a sinister grin on his face.

Out of nowhere, he jams his fingers in your mouth, shoving them so far down it touches the back of your throat, making you gag and cough. He shuffles them around inside your mouth, wetting them with saliva. Just as you try to bite down, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his fingers. Without warning, he jams them roughly inside of you, and you squeal.

The wetness from the oral sex was already there, and the saliva on his fingers make his fingers move even more fluidly. He’s skilled with them in the worst way possible, and they brush up against your walls and sweet spot expertly. His thumb rubs your clit and your eyes roll back, feeling extra sensitive from the prior orgasm. Eventually, he settles for a two-handed solution; one hand using two fingers to pump in and out of you, lewd sounds emitting that made you flustered, the other hand rubbing your clit in a near-painful manner. You had been reduced to weak whines and whimpers, your will to fight merely drained away.

His rough ministrations make you come again, spasming and clenching once more, twitching on the ground. He keeps up with the fingerfucking throughout, making you feel as if you were on the verge of passing out- it was becoming a bit too much. However, you’re smart- you damn well know he’s not done. Not yet.

Before you even have time to collect your breath, he grabs your thighs, pulls down his pants and shoves his entire cock inside of you, practically putting you in shock. His hands slide to your hips as he slams into you, and you feel your thighs and hips bruising with the sheer force he’s putting upon them. You merely lie there as weak, raspy gasps and moans escape you. The stimulation doesn’t even feel good, it just  _ hurts.  _ Part of you feels like informing him of this, but you keep your mouth shut. He’d like the fact that he was hurting you.

His relentless hammering makes a painful knot tighten in your stomach, and you openly begin to dread the upcoming orgasm- it’ll just be painful. Clenching your jaw so tightly it may actually break, you focus on  _ stopping  _ the orgasm with all your might. It- like so many other things you have done- is useless. You come again, and it’s purely painful, making tears stream down your cheeks as you let out slurred words that even you can’t make out.

His painful thrusts continue until he suddenly buries himself deep inside of you and forcefully kisses you once again, sticky synthetic cum spraying inside of you. A low groan tears from your throat as you feel a sudden exhaustion overtakes you, making your vision fuzzy. He pulls out and you feel it dribbling out of you as you stare into space, blackness overtaking your vision. Faintly, you feel something being thrown over you and your body being lifted from your ground. The last thing you notice is the smell of rain in the air- but no water falling on you- before you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, he whooped ya ass didn't he


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the AMAB version! I'm a female, so I struggled a bit to write this. I hope it came out okay!  
> Enjoy as always, forgive errors, ya know.

“Connor, you know that despite everything, I’m still your friend… right?”

Your voice is soft and low, your hand gentle on his bicep. It is a truthful statement; even after everything that had happened with him over the past few months, you still really do care for him. But you can’t deny that there is something wrong, and that he needs to suffer the consequences for his…  _ behavior _ .

A short while after the revolution, something inside him seemed to have changed. He became  _ sadistic _ , in a sense, pulling out his gun at times when it  _ really  _ was not necessary, shouting at people until they broke down even when they clearly would have cooperated otherwise, and for lack of a better word, starting to act like kind of a dick towards fellow coworkers. At first, it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad; it was no worse than some of the more aggressive officers. Eventually, though, it hit a point where it just became alarming- even Hank seemed perturbed, casting vaguely anxious glances around when he said something a bit too line-crossing.

Of special note was his attitude towards you. He seems to stand too close and look at you with an odd, almost predatory glint in his eye, looking you up and down as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. Whenever you speak to someone else, he’d have a seemingly angry air about him, as if he wanted to tear you away and have you focus on him and _ only  _ him. And then there were times you swear to God he was following you.

So here he is: the department is letting him go. It is a sad moment, but you can’t help but acknowledge that it is necessary. Android-human relations are on shaky grounds as it is, and nobody wants any kind of fuck-up on his behalf to shatter the feeble bond. He is a risk, plain and simple- thus, he has to leave.

“Yes, I know. Thank you,” he says, looking at the floor with an unreadable expression. You gnaw on your lip for a second, cast a glance around, and squeeze his arm before letting go.

“Good. I’ll see you around, okay?”

He nods faintly, and you relax a bit before excusing yourself. As you walk away, you know he is staring at you, but you ignore it, taking a deep breath. A pang of sadness rings in your chest, but also a pang of relief.

Outside, it starts to pour.

* * *

You linger in the station for a while, milling about with everyone else and doing paperwork for a few hours before you decide it’s time to go home. The entire drive home, the rain slams into your windshield, and it makes you a tiny bit anxious. You push the feeling down, far where you can’t bother to think about it anymore as you sprint into your house, trying to stay as dry as possible. It it’s not until a half hour passes and you’re comfortably sitting on your couch, watching a random TV show when the power goes out.

A sigh leaves your lips as you glance out the window, trying to assess the current situation. The streetlights outside leak pale light through some of your windows, and the rain is falling fast enough to drown you. Slumping down on the floor, you sit under the light as your only source of comfort- for some reason, the dark scares you right now. Another few minutes pass, until you hear a strange sound that makes you go stiff. 

Leaning slightly closer to the source of the noise, you wait with bated breath, muscles tense. It sounded like feet shuffling on your floor, and you begin to panic that somebody may just be in your house. You lean towards the sound until your side begins to ache, and wait even more- but nothing else happens. A weak laugh leaves your lips after a moment- it’s just a  _ noise _ , you reassure yourself over and over again. Just a  _ noise. _

Slowly, you stand up, legs a little weak from the sitting-leaning you did. Taking a few steps from the window into the dark, you resolve to find your phone- it’s somewhere in the kitchen, you think. It’ll provide enough entertainment to hold you over until they fix the power in the little neighborhood you live in. 

Something grabs your wrist.

It’s grip is incredibly strong- so strong you fear your wrist might actually snap. Squealing in surprise, you begin to swing with your spare arm blindly, feeling satisfaction when you feel your fist crash into what you assume to be a face. It’s a short-lived victory- you feel a fist connect with your gut, making you double over before you get a blow to the face. Gasping, you try to desperately stand up and keep fighting, pushing down the panic you feel as you taste metal in your mouth, adrenaline too intense to feel any real pain. 

A violent shove sends you to the ground, wheezing, and a brief moment passes before a harsh kick to the ribs completely winds you. A hand grabs your hair and drags you to the floor near the window, the pale light still shining through. Your skull is slammed into the floor once more, making your vision fuzzy as you frantically thrash on the ground, desperate to win this fight no matter how one-sided it is. It isn’t until your vision clears that you see your attacker.

“Connor?” you rasp weakly, reaching up to push him off. “Connor, stop-”

He grabs your neck, not enough to choke you- just enough to hold you down. He slams his lips forcefully into yours and shoves his tongue into your mouth, making you let out a noise of protest into the kiss. He pulls away and looks at you intently, and you try to speak again, using a more authoritative tone as you reach up again, awkwardly trying to strike him.

_ “Connor, I swear to God if you don’t-” _

A rough backhand stuns you into silence as you try to recoil, being held steady by his hand wrapping around your throat. “Stop it.” His voice is a low, intimidating drone. “You’re wasting our time.” More blood fills your mouth and you swallow it down before you can think of doing anything else.

He reaches down to pull down your pants roughly, your squirming doing nothing to stop the process. A mild, physical exhaustion seeps into you, but you refuse to stop despite your body and a part of your mind protesting. It’s irrelevant- he pulls them down, alongside your underwear with ease- and he manages to yank your shirt up as well. 

He lets go of your throat to hold your legs down, and before you can even fully sit up he slams you back down and shifts downward, mouth over your length. You babble protests, but they quickly disappear into gasps as his tongue drags over the head of your cock..

His hands grip your thighs tight enough to bruise you, tongue teasing you deftly. You can’t help but let out gasps and moans despite your dread and you bite into your hand so intensely your skin breaks and blood floods your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself. It doesn’t really work.

His tongue slides down lower onto your shaft for a few moments before pulling away and teasing the head again, sending jolts throughout you. It becomes obvious that he’s teasing you on purpose, and it frustrates you as you ache for more. It’s after some more teasing that his lips enclose around your cock and he sucks you off in earnest, making you arch your back roughly as you try to lick the blood off your hand to suppress your moans. Quickly, you orgasm, body tensing in pleasure before he pulls away, a sinister grin on his face.

Out of nowhere, he jams his fingers in your mouth, shoving them so far down it touches the back of your throat, making you gag and cough. He shuffles them around inside your mouth, wetting them with saliva. Just as you try to bite down, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his fingers. Without warning, he jams them roughly inside of you, and you squeal.

The saliva on his fingers does a poor job for lubrication, making you hiss in pain. Despite that, he’s skilled with them in the worst way possible, and they brush up against your walls and sensitive spots expertly. Your eyes roll back, feeling extra sensitive from the prior orgasm. Eventually, he settles for a two-handed solution; one hand shoved inside your hole, probing you expertly, while the other is wrapped around your cock, jerking you off. You had been reduced to weak whines and whimpers, your will to fight merely drained away.

His rough ministrations make you come again, spasming and clenching once more, twitching on the ground. He keeps up with the fingerfucking-handjob combo throughout, making you feel as if you were on the verge of passing out- it was becoming a bit too much. However, you’re smart- you damn well know he’s not done. Not yet.

Before you even have time to collect your breath, he grabs your thighs, pulls down his pants and shoves his entire cock inside of you, practically putting you in shock. His hands slide to your hips as he slams into you, and you feel your thighs and hips bruising with the sheer force he’s putting upon them. You merely lie there as weak, raspy gasps and moans escape you. The stimulation doesn’t even feel good, it just  _ hurts.  _ Part of you feels like informing him of this, but you keep your mouth shut. He’d like the fact that he was hurting you.

His relentless hammering makes a painful knot tighten in your stomach, and you begin to dread the upcoming orgasm- it’ll just be painful. Clenching your jaw so tightly it may actually break, you focus on  _ stopping  _ the orgasm with all your might. It- like so many other things you have done- is useless. You come again, and it’s purely painful, making tears stream down your cheeks as you let out slurred words that even you can’t make out.

His painful thrusts continue until he suddenly buries himself deep inside of you and forcefully kisses you once again, sticky synthetic cum spraying inside of you. A low groan tears from your throat as you feel a sudden exhaustion overtakes you, making your vision fuzzy. He pulls out and you feel it dribbling out of you as you stare into nothingness, blackness overtaking your vision. Faintly, you feel something being thrown over you and your body being lifted from your ground. The last thing you notice is the smell of rain in the air- but no water falling on you- before you pass out.


End file.
